The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1887-07-08

| old peasant runs before their horses; and
when he stumbles the point of saber
UhAans have mo time TO waitl" lifts him
quickly to his feet.
For q long time they go on this way,
the old peasant breathless, staggering
and ready to drop. but struggling bravely
to keep upright ill they are past the ford.
Three hundred meters further he rolls TO
the ground exhausted.
"Up," cries the commandant; sup
and oni" and again he rises. 1t is thus
they arrive at the bridge of Ia Fourche;
the hoofs of the Germans horses efface
all marks the halt of tho French had
made there, and as far as the eye can
reach the muddy waters of the river show
no traces either: one might well have
thought that the French in their retreat
had been swallowed by them bodily.
The loss OF the bridge was n complete
surprise to the pursuing uhlans; never
theless, there mus. be bridge or ford
somewhere else, and the staff officers dis
cuss it hotly. Beside them the old man
hangs his head and pants and sweats.
neuyer," said the commandment presently;
they've retraced their steps; we must
follow them
"But we cannot, respond the officers;
1--WE can distinguish nothing, not even
our own footsteps; however, the peasant
should know if there is a ford"
But the peasant does not know if there
is ford--if there is, he has never heard
of it.
1--WE will see!'' cry the Germans an
grily. 'Into the water with you, brute:
in at once!" and they push him to the
edge. 1t is the old man himself, then,
who Is to serve as sounder of its depth.
The path slopes gently to the rivers
side, and the peasant resignedly enters it.
Up to his knees, his waist, his shoulders,
the water rises, and still he advances
"Return!" shouts the chief ut last; ''the
ford is not there"
Every two or three hundred yards, how
ever, he is pushed into the stream again,
but always loses his footing and regains
the bank with difficulty. To cross tho
river is impossible-eyerywhere the depth
is too great.
Forced, to the great amusement of the
uhlans, to continually repeat these trips
into the river, the old peasant finds him.
self at last really at the ford, and the
poor beggar, half frozen, shivering and
more pitiable than ever, throws furtive
glance upon the other side of the water.
Those whom he wishes to save are scarce
ly three leagues away. If the passage is
discovered they are lost.
"In with you! in with you'll" shout
the uhlans again.
"But I cannot" answers the old man;
''my strength is gone
$50 much the better--you will now
show us the ford."
"But I do not know one
"Then into the water with you,
whether or no." and they force him in.
Gradually as he advances, feeling his
way with slow and faltering footsteps, he
lowers his body--in some way he must
make them believe in the continued
depth of water. But he is not far
enough yet; they can still see the move
ment of his feet not far below the sur
face, and threatening clamor arises
from the bank. He must so on, and he
murmurs something which he alone can
understand. BY bending low, though
not yet in the middle of the river, the
water has risen as far as his shoulders,
and he turns about and fixes his eyes
upon his enemies, the enemies Of
France as well, grouped upon the bank
behind him.
$50 on" they cry; 'go on!' He
obeys, and drawing himself lower still,
continues his way, his head well up and
stepping backward. The Germans laugh
and mock him with haunting gestures.
His feet are already plumb ON the ground
tho has only to raise himself erect to be
free, to be free and to live! He en-
braces with long and lingering look the
earth, the sun, existence itself, and
plunges suddenly beneath the waves.
There is n shout from the bank--a
quick ending of the mocking laughter,
sullen silence.
Evidently the ford is not there"
says the commandant regretfully, land
that old man is dead. Come, messieurs,
we must give up the chase"
And again deceived the Uhlans re-
sumo their useless march, while that
heroic ''brute" rolls heavily in a current
full of golden light. -Translated for The
Enquirer from the French of Maurice
Montegut by E. G. Waggener.